Of essence concerning our familiars
by InnocuousLotus
Summary: There was news that the heir of Fujiwara Clan had finally found his familiar. But Hikaru was a furious, brash, young child - who was still mourning and refusing to listen; while Sai was determined to make everything right again. Familiar!AU, Gen.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, except for the plot.

 **Author's note:** This is an AU and will be updated weekly. This writer knows next to nothing about Go; any references about the game are results from many researches. And please feel free to ask any question.

 **Summary:** There was news that the heir of Fujiwara Clan had finally found his familiar. But Hikaru was a furious, brash, young child - who was still mourning and refusing to listen; while Sai was determined to make everything right again. Familiar!AU, Gen.

* * *

 **Prologue:**

 **A Test of Worth**

* * *

The morning sun was tender through the haze of frost lazing in the garden. Hikaru didn't remember when he had woken up – perhaps before dawn -, but he deemed it not of import. His father's breath had now turned steady and normal, replacing the quickened – agonised – pace it had first taken and risen Hikaru from his sleep. Sometimes, Hikaru wondered about ages – about the years that had passed speaking of mortality and fragility. The concept was foreign to him as it was intimatingly occurring in front of his eyes every single day. Hikaru tended to notice things that shouldn't concern him; and his father often reprimanded him for it in a resigned, fond tone. Thoughts of anti-aging spell now and then would spark insistence and something akin to hope in Hikaru. The notion of longevity flagued by none of human vulnerability was an ideal which Hikaru was eager to persuade his father into believing. Albeit, Shindou Masao was a firm man who wasn't afraid of the approach of death – who let time eat away his youth and, then, his health. His father was not going to live with him forever.

This fact – as bitter and terrifying as it was for Hikaru to admit – certainly had something to do with the presence of a man, whom Hikaru hadn't met before and who had visited his home the day prior in early afternoon. It was summer, heat brightening and slowing everything into faintly heavy moments laden with the high persistent trills of insects. The wind chimes rang out to sudden, hot gales trespassing the shoji doors of the tea room, which had an open view of their spacious garden.

A Go board had been laid between his father and the stranger, displaying a game just reaching the start of a fierce battle of chuban. Looking through the small slit of the thin wood-framed doors, Hikaru sat and used his heightened vision to observe the game silently. The goban was slowly lightened with the sheer power of each hand, sealing symbols circling around the two players' seats and waiting. A disconcerting weight settled over his stomach when the unknown male unsheathed his sword, cut through his father's defense in moves so beauteous it held Hikaru's attention captive just like his father's stones, and showed his worth. Hikaru didn't stay to witness the whole game, his footfalls darkened by the resentful, impotent, feelings warring in his heart and followed by the graceful, agile figures of his koi floating after their master's quiet call of distress. He didn't care if the abrupt absence of the water spirits in the pond would alert his father of the state of his son's emotions, because Masao was the one who chose to be discreet and found someone to look after Hikaru as if his father himself would not be enough.

Later, after that (unwanted, _unwanted_ ) young man left, his father told him about his loss of half a moku as Hikaru prepared for their dinner and pretended not to care. The koi fishes he had sent to the pond for their nightly rest, and he vaguely realized that, without their company, his anger then burned clearly inside.

It was half a moku.

"You didn't ask for my permission," Hikaru tried to keep his voice calm, but even that still indifference sounded rigid in his ears.

"Because I know you would always say no, Hikaru," his father responded, stern and _understanding_. "But I don't want you to be a stray when I can no longer breathe." And there, Masao bared his stark honesty and acceptance to Hikaru in a night reeking of summer's sultriness.

"He is of _Suzaku_ 's descents, so his status alone will maintain your safety once you are under his wings, Hikaru."

It was overwhelming, and Hikaru suddenly felt his previous indignation souring into a bone-deep tiredness that made his twelve-year-old body ache dully. So, Hikaru abandoned his dinner share and retired from the kitchen to find an escape in his room, leaving his father to stare after his small back. Hikaru had cried and slept until his father's racking coughs disrupted his slumber.

He hadn't let go of his father's hand since.

* * *

 **Note:**

shoji - Japanese sliding doors.

chuban - middle game (Go term)

suzaku - Vermilion bird (represents the fire-element, the direction south, and the season summer correspondingly)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, except for the plot.

 **Author's note** : This is up later than planned due to the lack of technological assistance. Please forgive my delay; I will try to make other updates more regular to the set schedule (which is a chapter every Thursday).

Sincere thanks and gratitude to anyone who reads, follows, favorites and reviews this story. It keeps me motivated ^^

 **Warning** : Brief description of gore, minor character death.

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

 **Endless Pondering**

* * *

The messenger substitude came when they were having breakfast, a little piece of human-shaped enchanted paper floating through the kitchen's window and falling into Akiko's graceful opening palm. Kouyou calmly took a sip of his tea, waiting for his wife to read the message. If it had arrived here in the purpose of informing Akiko, then there had to be some happenstances in the _other_ world.

Though, he had a thought that this was related to the sudden awakening of both Akiko and Akira the night before. Kouyou remembered the way the air had been pregnant with heavy meanings, and the way Akira rested his head on his mother's yukata-donned laps in a comforting gesture after rushing quietly down from upstairs to his parents' room. Through the quiescent unsettlement of it all, Akiko was silent; her face turned towards the direction of East as if listening to something. The darkness of night couldn't cover the restlessness that seemed to engulf every space in its instantaneous, gentle ambrace and wake the spirits up from their slumbering. Their soft keenings resounded through the house like a late choral for faraway sorrows.

Now, when dawn had long passed and Akira returned to his room for a sleepless night's posterior rest, Kouyou watched the slight cease of brows on Akiko's face drawing in as though a realization of inevitability. "What happened?" He finally allowed himself to ask; and Akiko raised her gaze up to meet his, a sad light reflected in her timeless eyes.

"Seiryu _died_."

Later, as Akiko drove him to the Ki'in for his scheduled match, Kouyou thought while he might not understand the actual significance of the recent death – of how it had invisibly put stiffness to Akiko's lithe shoulders – apart from a distant respect for the deceased, he did know the uneasiness growing subtly in his chests. His world incidentally had a narrowed edge to it, and Kouyou became conscious of the fact that despite the ageless otherworldliness of Akiko, her plane of existence _did_ have its own end.

So, Kouyou sat in the car together with his wife even when the vehicle had reached its destination. He didn't offer her a consoling hand because, sometimes, the considerate company of one another was all they needed. Although he and Akiko didn't have the bond she and their son shared, they were still twelve-year-married. It settled between them an understanding that went beyond the capacities of words and gesticulation. This might be foreign to people, who saw the outer distance and respectful politeness the Touya seemingly acted around each other. Questions about their familial affections arose, without acknowledging the depth of relationships.

"When will you go to Kokyo?" Kouyou inquired, looking at his wife's contemplative figure.

Akiko blinked her eyes as if she just gained awareness of her surrounding and thoughtfully replied, "I'll drive back home to pick up Akira first; then, we will be off for Kokyo. I think the others are going to be there as well. There are many things that need taking care of for the time being."

They were seated like that for a few more minutes before Akiko abruptly reminded him of his match and efficiently sent him out of the car with a tender smile and a sure " _good luck_ ".

"And you too," Kouyou said as Akiko leant out to close the door at his side. She stopped midway upon hearing it, and Kouyou caught a glimpse of another fond tilt of her lips because he was looking for one. For a while he stood in front of the Ki'in's entrance - vision chasing after the retreating form of his wife's car - and hoped by the time she was home, tension would be lifted off her body's contours.

* * *

Kokyo Higashi Gyoen was very quiet today - Not that it was less peaceful any other days, but less populated it surely was. The palace had decided to close all of the compounds for two weeks, public announcement briefing about an unexpected large renovation while the inner circles kept the truth of the closure within themself. Without the distant, sparse crowd of tourists, the ninomaru area seemed to transfer back to an older time, where these grounds were only for the walking and seeing of nobles and royalties. And mayhap, this inaudible ancient feel pairing with the earlier morose news had somehow brought along a hushed solemnity to the atmosphere.

From where they were standing on the remaining foundation of the former castle tower, Akiko traced her eyes from the vast expanse of the hill to the profile of Fujiwara Sai, whose brows were knitted in midly troubled lines. Fujiwara had been sharp and serious since Akiko and her son arrived here; there was a subdued distance in the way he held himself and chose his words more discreetly, like an interval of a play Akiko wasn't aware of happening. Even Akira had been reluctant to utter some pleasantries to the man whom her son held in high regard and who, before this day, was usually a genial person. But she didn't press him for details; although they were once close enough for Akiko to consider Fujiwara as someone akin to a younger brother, she knew the bondaries of titles sometimes could eliminate any kinds of intimacy and familiarity.

For the past few years, she had heard of the rumoured edginess planted in the Fujiwara household about the lack of a suitable familiar for their heritor. Fujiwara Sai was a brilliant young man, full of potential since the day he was born with the mark of Suzaku shining upon his chest. Albeit, as time came and went, in spite of the pride over the prompt growth of their young master, the people of Fujiwara Clan had still became more and more agitated when Sai refused to pick a familiar. Akiko could indubitably recall the hassle it had been as many lineages of servitude under the reign of the Fujiwara endeavoured to present their best of candidates - all but to no avail. Sai had not bothered to even blink an eyelash, and declined in an extremely tactful manner to various subjects that he haboured no interest of making them his familiar. Akiko had been barely eighteen at the time, and despite her softened apprehension towards the matter, she enjoyed the young Suzaku's presence whenever he visited her house to tell her about his own side of discontentment.

 _Why didn't you accept their offers? I've thought that one from the Fujimoto is very promising._ Akiko had queried Fujiwara once time during his visitation. She reminisced about the prolonged quietude that it took for him to answer her inquiry, his ever ingrained straight posture slightly curling in and stiffened.

 _I'm waiting for the right one._ Fujiwara eventually replied, a note of longing and wistfulness shading his tone. It had felt like catching a whisper of a well-hidden secret to Akiko - a personal and vulnerable touch to mere verbal syllables that made them more persistent and powerful. Akiko had not questioned him further, but she pondered Fujiwara would have been tightlipped if she had. Back then, Akiko had felt sympathy for him, because she could see herself in relation - yearning for a bond, an existence that mattered the most. But she also knew that what he had been through and was currently experiencing was far beyond her emotional comprehension, for - at least - Akiko had a prophecy from her late father to assure her that her lonely hours would soon come to pass, which spared her the facing of uncertainty. In the time before, and at the moment, Akiko couldn't make herself fathom Fujiwara's endless uncertain anticipation for his unknown familiar - or even more so since she had both Akira and Kouyou to bring forgetfulness to her days of solitude.

Looking at Fujiwara now - adorned in fine dark blue traditional kimono, completely grown into his stature of a stunning man and his status of the next Suzaku -, Akiko was nevertheless able to glimpse his lonesomeness. In a way, it was similar to that sharp-edged, stubborn solitariness of one Ogata Seiji - the next Byakko (expectedly and traditionally) or Genbu (impulsively and worryingly) - who hounded after the defeat of Kuwabara Honinbou in an almost-vicious insistence of returning the old sensei to the position of his rightful familiar. Kouyou had regarded it as an issue of over-done punctiliousness and revenge for honor, while Akiko thought it was just ambitious yearning. Not for the first time, Akiko was relieved and happy for having her son - her familiar - and the absence of complexity in their bond and experiences.

"It's strange," Fujiwara's voice suddenly brought Akiko out of her thoughts, and she turned to face him as he continued, his eyes sweeping the borders of the East, which had a few people from the five guardian houses inspecting its state - Akiko could spot Akira joining among them. "Normally, the decease of a guardian will cause a crucial disruption to the borders under his or her protection. But we have been invigorating for two hours and none came up disturbed."

"Fujiwara-san, are you saying that there is remained guardianship, and it helps holding the borders together despite the guardian now passed away?" Akiko asked, sounding a little bit skeptically puzzled. However, it was true to Fujiwara's observations that Akiko couldn't feel anything out of place to the borders when they were supposed to be in bad shape. If there were directs complains from the spiritual populace in the East, Akira would have informed her immediately or Akiko would hear them from her own yokai. Fujiwara looked pensive for a moment, as though reconsidering his speculations before saying.

"No, _Oryu_ -san, what I am trying to theorise is that there is someone of Seiryu descendants who unofficially gets the acceptance of the Eastern yokai to be seen as an official guardian," Fujiwara said in due course, and Akiko could foresee complications that might arise if Fujiwara's prediction was to be correct.

"There is no certainty that Shindou-san would have any children outside of our knowledgement, Fujiwara-san. If he did, the Court must have known of it."

"But...let's think, Oryu-san," Fujiwara was lapsed in his silence again, his gaze becoming faraway as if the man was trying to recollect something from remembrance, "...that even the Court didn't catch wind of this. The possibilities of the situation would be numerous indeed -"

"Oryu-sama and Fujiwara-sama," a greeting called out from behind them cut off Fujiwara's sentence; a man appeared wearing an impeccable tailored suit and bowed deeply at the sight of the two guardians. "His Majesty would like to have a discussion about the appointment of a new guardian, as well as the funeral's arrangements with the two of you. Ogata-sama has already been at the Palace, and awaiting for your arrivals. So, please follow me."

"You go first, Fujiwara-san; I have to call for Akira. We will be right behind," said Akiko. As if acknowledging her summoning intention, Akira was seen to head to his mother's direction - his face a reflection of Kouyou's instense focus and his hair lightly billowing as he walked fast across the hill side. Akiko let her eyes leave her son's approaching's figure to glance at Fujiwara's gradually shrinking back, and thought there was something the heir of Suzaku wasn't telling that had nothing to do with the prior interruption.

A percular line of pondering entered her mind and stayed: It was still summer, yet the end of July promised no more heavy downpours - they would enjoy an increase of sunshine besides the ever-present humidity. Soon, summer would step back from the invasion of fall, carrying with it another rainy season in September and the occurrence of typhoon.

There would be _storms_.

* * *

The tattoo master looked impressed at his sketch, "This is truly beautiful a design, Masanori-sama, I have to admit."

Masanori smiled a little like a razor wrapped carefully in a delicate cover, his lips hovering over amused satisfaction, "To be perfectly honest, Hotaru-san, this drawing was not done by me, but by an acquaintance." Hotaru seemed startled at the piece of information.

"It must have been a really close acquaintance then. Because Masanori-sama wouldn't just decide to paint this on his skins if it was anybody - No matter how beauteous the picture was."

"Hotaru-san was terribly curious today, no?" Dangerous sharpness lurked in his voice for brief seconds, "But, I will indulge you in the spirit of such a good day."

"As you see," Masanori began taking off his suit jacket in graceful movements, his long fingers folding the rich, dark fabric methodically and setting the custom-made garment aside meticulously. "My acquaintance - I'm very fond of him. A bit different, but difference is good. So, I told him of my accomplishments for the lineage. I expected praises from him, of course. But he had been skeptical, and moody even. I wonder what had upsetted my little man so badly." The last statement was smoothly drawled out, forming into a death threat nonchalantly.

"But then, my little man did make this design. An action of loyalty and devotion, he had said. If it was two years ago, I would have snapped his neck instead." A mirthful smile stretched on Masanori's lips, "However, it was in the past. Now, I want you to carve the drawing into my back as well as you can, Hotaru-san." And once it was finished, there would be an azure dragon residing upon his flesh, claws digging and long, slender body curling around an emerald stone and along his spine. Underneath the new tattoo, the old ones were hidden and heightened at the same time - representing all the brutality and slaughters that eventually gave birth to such a beautiful glory. When the blood dried and mixed up with paints, the colours were going to be stunning.

As Masanori started unbuttoning his dress-shirt, a shadow fell across the room announcing a presence. Masanori ignored Hotaru's surprised exclaims at the disturbance, and looked more closely at the soaking-wet suited man who dripped water everywhere. The newcomer's eyes were glazed over and liveless, while behind him a yokai with large head, empty sockets and fanged mouth was clutching at his hunching-over shoulders.

"Tsk, you didn't need to kill him," Hotaru looked like he almost jumped ten feet into the air at Masanori's complaint. Normal people couldn't see these spirits after all. "But what makes you come here, yokai?"

" _Kokyo...saw him...drowned him_...," The yokai gnashed its teeth slowly, its bony fingers grapsing the dead man's neck and bent it a little into an awkward position. The gritting continued for some time before the yokai used its thin arm to put the corpse's hand into the pants' pockets, restracted a folded sheet of paper and gave it to Masanori.

"... _Her..e_ ," The yokai croaked out one more time and disappeared, leaving a dead body sprawling messily on the carpeted floor.

"Wha-what was that? Shindou-sama...What had happened!?"

Masanori sighed in a rather regretful manner, putting the paper into his breast pocket, "I'm afraid I have urgent matters to attend. Perhaps, we will have an appointment later. My men will come and deal with the corpse; feel free to charge me for any more damages, Hotaru-san."

Funerals were terrible businesses indeed.

* * *

 **Note** :

•Seiryu: Azure dragon representing East, spring and the element Wood.

•Kokyo: Imperial Palace (located in Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo)

•Kokyo Higashi Gyoen: Imperial East Garden residing in the ninomaru compound (secondary defense) of the Palace. It is open to public with free entrance fee.

•Byakko: White tiger representing West, autumn and the element Metal.

•Genbu: Black Tortoise representing North, winter and the element Water.

•Oryu: Yellow dragon representing the Centre and the element Earth.

•yokai: spirits, ghosts

•Masanori: means model of justice (OC)

 **Author's** **note** : This should have taken place in Kyoto, since the shrines of the four guardians are in Kyoto. But for convenience's sake, I get them all to Tokyo. And the spiritual aspects in the fic are actually a mixture of Asian mythology. I kinda run away with my creative liscene here.

There are probably some mistakes, which I will come back to fix later.

Thank you for reading!


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